Blue Moon's Gift
by thedibbler
Summary: Asami did something unforgivable to Akihito, but somehow because Asami is Asami, he's given a second chance to find forgiveness or at least a moment of respite. Warning: triggers for spousal abuse. Written in first person part of the I am Asami series.


The Blue Moon's Gift

I/Asami Series

"_A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it." _

_~ Oscar Wilde" _

_~ German Proverb_

"So, tell me your story…sir." The bartender says as he pours me an amber shot of a foul smelling liquid. I sniff it tentatively, feeling the searing burn on my nostril hairs. I fight the urge to twitch my nose.

I brush away the lime that would normally cut through the burn after a drink such as this one. I wanted to feel the burn, it meant I was still alive…for now.

"So you say…but it's a dead man's tale, but if you want to hear it…" I mutter into nothingness, the silent bartender eyes me with cooled disdain.

"Sure, I've got nuthin' better ta do." He says, dropping his fake Tokyo broadcaster accent. I recognize the slight cutting of his words, as if he is already inebriated. I planned to follow suit.

I (Asami Ryuuichi…AKA Winner of the Bastard Asshole of the Year award) toss back the tiny vial with a flip of my head and through my (not-so-cool) flicking of my hands, the sharp-eyed bartender places a glass of tepid water in front of me and I sip it quickly down, dousing the fire in my throat.

He puts a hand over his mouth and chuckles, flipping his hair back at the same time. His eyes appear perfectly shaped and his hair falls with perfectly placed strands. The cheap Buddhist Beads wrapped around his wrist look almost sinful in their glittering golden beauty. I spot his jumbled reflection in the mirror behind him, his form illuminated by the bar's neon advertisements.

I realize he's watching me in the mirror as he wipes an unseen spec from his perfectly polished taps, all labeled with pedestrian beer and ale offerings…except one…this one is labeled _'sangre.'_ I wonder if the bartender has Spanish blood in him.

I go back to my usual, mentally crossing off tequila as my drink of choice. "Leave the bottle." I say. He complies with a shift of his slender hips.

The bartender with the two-toned hair (black and white) leans forward as he places the bottle to my right. A man's silver ring on a chain slips from under his too-tight black button down shirt. He has an odd flavored gum in his right pocket. His breath smells of something other than the gum, which I understand to be kiwi flavor from the label.

He smells like dirt and rusty iron. I think he's going to pull at my tie and kiss me, so I lean back a little. I have no desire to rescue my lover from the monotony of this spot-on-the map with odd flavored gum on my tongue.

I wink at him. "I will be candid, as we are like minded." I point to the man's ring dangling from a thick white silver chain. "I gave him one like that."

He flicks his lids downward to the ring and tucks it back in with perfectly slender and beautifully manicured fingers. "It's just for show. To keep wolves from knocking at my door. Your kind."

"My kind..." I toss back my drink and I begin my story, clearing my throat in a dramatic way. "So you wonder why I'm drinking in your seedy bar far from home? Well… I'm waiting for a blue moon."

"Yeah?"

"Second chances. In my case, maybe my third chance."

"Yeah."

_It all started sometime ago…_

"_You betrayed me!" I had yelled, cursing something or other, spitting in his face in my anger. I was losing my temper. The headache built in the back of my eyes first then spread to the back of my head. "These photos…Akihito after three years? Why?"_

_He shook his head. Clear drops flipped everywhere. He was shaking and frightened. I'm not listening to his excuses…not this time._

"_I didn't take that photo…" Akihito mumbled. "Asami…"_

"_Why should I believe you?" My fists shook as my emotions overcame me. The moon was rising and I thought I heard a dog's howl in the distance. He looked like a scolded child, cowering in the corner. His hands protectively around his head._

"_No…I didn't…I didn't take the…Asami…please."_

"I hadn't even touched him, and he was already begging for his life…over this photo." The swinging lamp highlights the photo of me taking a simple bribe from a simple man. The photographer took a horrible photo of my bad side, the side without the little notch on my left ear. My right side. I hadn't felt right that night and had caught a strange scent on the air. I should have followed my instincts.

He looks at it in a disinterested way. "Oh…that's that Diet member…what's his face, the one who suddenly…had a change of heart."

"Could be." I said vaguely.

"So you were pissed, I take it."

"I have enemies. And they liked that photo of me._"_ I demonstrate how fleeting life is by tossing the shot glass around. It flips off the narrow bar and starts to tumble. With something I could only describe as cat-like reflexes, he catches the tiny tumbler tumbling in space and sets it back in front of me, cushioning the sound with his pinky.

"Nice catch." I say. "Anyway…I threw him against the wall. I spit at him, blew smoke in his face, ripped his shirt to shreds and then fucked him raw. He had bruises forming everywhere from my fingers."

"Um…huh." The bartender dusts at the counter absent-mindedly and continues to stare over me. A rumble of a scooter distracts me for a second, and I glance in the mirror in front of me at my reflection. I'm not looking my best. I flip a stray hair back in place. It doesn't help.

"It wasn't pleasant for either one of us. I can tell you." I say to the bartender.

The bartender chews on an errant nail and proceeds to mumble something like…_uh huh _again, so I went on. As I continue, I'm suddenly aware that he keeps filling my water glass, but as for the whisky, he let me control.

"I lost it that night."I say. I looked for judgment in the man's eyes, but saw none. "I left his body shiny with my piss and breathless at my feet, and then I told the bloody mess to get out of my office. I threatened to kill him then. "

"Uh huh." The bartender said tiredly. "Bloody…huh."

I clench my fists, but I only manage to dig my too long nails into my palms. "When he didn't get out fast enough for my liking I tightened my grip around his neck until I almost heard his last gasp."

"_Kill me, Asami. Just do it." _Echoed in my ears. The bartender starts chewing on a new neon green gum piece while trying to look casual as I spin my gruesome tale. I wonder how he sleeps at night, listening to the tales of the damned.

I need a cigarette so I take out a new pack of Dunhill's. "He begged me to end his life."

"And did you?" He finally looks at me. Obviously, my tale suddenly became more interesting than his nail.

I wink at him and lower my head, my fist curling around the glass. My gold eyes reflect back, and I wonder the color of the woman's eyes that bore me. I pour another tumbler full of liquid delight and desire and despair, all in one. I've lost count of the number of drinks now.

I ask for coffee. He pours it slowly into a white mug with a little crack in the handle.

I take the mug, noting the light spilling from the front window. As the moon rises, the room fills with an otherworldly light that reflects blue into my irises, and then colors them until they glow.

It fades quickly as my eyes adjust.

"Sorry, no sugar." He says. With the coffee he produces a box of tissues. "I thought I'd keep them on hand."

"I don't require either."

"Some people do." He says in a lilting voice. "Some people can't let the past go…and some people just spill. It happens and you keep cleaning it up."

He winks at me like he's the keeper of the world's secrets and I realize his irises glow between red and black, a trick of a faux-Tiffany lamp glowing in the corner. An old metal fan blows what little air there is and the lamp stars to turn slowly.

The bartender stops it with a single flick of his finger.

"Hm…" I comment.

"Want another?" He mumbles, pointing to the coffee pot. I shake my head and gather my thoughts for what I should say. He pours himself a mug of '_sangre' _and sits down on the rickety black stool. The padding is squishing through the vinyl covering and it creaks as he leans on an elbow and watches me intently.

I continue, mumbling into the mug before me. "He cheated Death that night and I passed out on the rug. The one I hated. The one picked out by him, in a rare moment when he felt _wifey._ I pissed on that rug too."

"Sounds like you won the pissing contest." The bartender says. I imagine the bartender chewing tobacco and spitting into the corner, _old west_ style, but he's actually chewing on his own lip in a distressed way. I realize he's looking over me at the television in the corner flickering between blue and gray and I catch the faint roar of a crowd as the announcer describes the _line drive to right field_.

I look outside. It's one in the morning on a Tuesday and the moon looks much as it did the night I kicked him out, just to keep from killing him. No one is playing baseball at this hour.

I shrug uncomfortably. I try to sit on the end of my suit jacket, as I don't want to appear rumpled. I fumble for my breath mints to mask my liquor, coffee and cigarette breath. They don't seem to help.

"Anyway, when I woke up, he was gone." I drain the rest of my coffee, now grown cold against my lips.

The bartender chews on a broken nail as he fills my little bowl of snacks. I find it both gross and inviting at the same time. I hope he doesn't leave chewed up skin in my fish flavored snacks but at the same time, I wonder what he tastes like.

"He left behind everything I bought him in a manila envelope labeled with the words _Office of Family Register_ stampedon it. Yeah, we never got around to making it official. I guess it's for the best."

He nods. He changes the channel and a high-pitched young woman forces you to listen about the health benefits of a local spa that caters to everyone. I turn to watch the ad and she winks at me. I don't catch the name of the spa that caters to everyone.

"So what was in the envelope?" He says in a bored tone.

I want to tell him '_a map to King Solomon's Mine_'and see if he reacts, but I tell him the truth. "Just a camera. He never came for the rest of his things."

I motion for a sangre with a pointing of my finger. His tongue runs across his teeth.

"That's not for ones such as you." He says in a voice I didn't know he could make. It's low and rumbling, like a large man's voice. I sniff.

"A beer then, in a bottle." The shape reminds me of a penis, the liquid reminds me of piss. You can't go wrong with beer.

He shrugs and complies. The stool creaks again as he reaches for the nearest beer.

The beer comes in a small brown bottle and steams with frost. "Huh." He comments. He spits into a glass, wiping it with the same rag that he just used on the counter. I cough and light up my Dunhill.

I force the smoke out of my lungs with a loud _puff_. "I can't blame him. I know I explode when the stress overwhelms me. Having a price on your head does things to a guy." I inhale again and tap the ash into my mug like a conductor calling his orchestra to attention.

"Oh yeah."

"Yeah." I mirror. I wonder if he's saying _oh yeah_ to the _pop fly to left field_ or to me, but I continue anyway. "It's like the doctor calling you and announcing y_ou have 3 months to live and I'm sorry, I can do nothing for you._ And the doctor calls every day. So you never know when the three months start…or when it will end."

"Can't say I know what that's like."

I inhale again and shake the beer in his direction and he nods his head. I can tell he is listening as he pretends to watch television. Has he pressed the panic button to call the cops? It wouldn't matter, because the cops here are old friends of mine.

_I like to catch up with old friends._

I take a swig of the home brewed beer and continue. "I told him a lot of things…in between fuck sessions the last night I saw him. My favorite was of how they would find my body in the sewer from which I came. Tokyo Bay was too good for me. Tokyo Bay was where the elite come to die."

I realize the liquor is making me extra candid. I text a note to Kirishima to _look into the bar_ which is code for something. He takes it literally and looks into the dirty windows. His nose smudge makes him slightly cuter. I raise my beer and nod my head. He looks at his watch.

I realize it's time.

"Anyway….I told him a dead man was fucking him…and if they look hard enough…" I lean forward and eye the ring. Up close, it looks like silver. He wrinkles his nose. Guess he doesn't like the smell of Dunhill's. "…if they look hard enough…they will find by body…if the rats don't find me first."

"Rats."

The beer sticks in my throat and I have to swallow and belch at the same time. "I should have let him talk that night. You see…he couldn't talk with that swollen jaw. It turned an ugly color…."

"You know? Rats stop eating if the meats gone sour." He comments. "So, maybe you'll get lucky."

"Good to know." I grow silent now. The added beer was too much a reminder of the man I have come to see. He used to like a cold beer on a night such as this, I wonder if he still does.

"How much of that is true?" He asks suddenly. The question doesn't surprise me, I'm just confused as to why he waited this long to ask.

"All of it or none of it…it just depends on your perspective." I reply.

"Hmm…well…" He mumbles. He starts for the doorway with the label: _Cellar Employees Only_. I toss a bunch of money on the dark teak colored counter, noting the attempt at some kind of tropical theme by gluing three cheap plastic Toucans together. They look rather contemplative at me as I lick the last drop from the inside of my whiskey glass.

The title of this odd plastic sculpture reads: '_Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil'_

I flick more money on the counter, hoping my bartender friend would use it to redecorate. The toucans follow me with their black waxy polished eyes as the door slams behind me.

The cigarette in my mouth tastes bland as I watch the people waiting for a bus that almost never seems to come. I chuckle at their worried brows and sweaty palms as they glance at their watches, wondering if that gesture would make the bus run faster.

And then I see him….there is my Takaba Akihito cheating death again. Because I was too weak to kill him? Perhaps. Perhaps the reason is that knowing he is alive somewhere on Earth made my world less dark.

Or, maybe it's because he's an incredibly good fuck.

XXX

How I Lost My Takaba Akihito…

A paid freelancer with a vague tip and a cheap camera got lucky one night. His name was Doniki, and Doniki liked cocaine.

A lot.

Doniki the real photographer sniffed the bloody snot back into his throat and spit it out at my feet. "I'm getting the shakes, man."

It sounded more like 'sgo shkates mam.'

"Your camera has a light leak. I know that much from fucking a photographer every night." I pointed to the photo of me giving or taking a bribe. I couldn't really remember. The photo was real. The credit was not. "I don't like being without him. It makes me edgy."

_Photo by Takaba Akihito._

_Photo by Takaba Akihito._

_Photo by Takaba Akihito._

I found myself touching the photo with the lying byline.

_Photo by Takaba Akihito._

As I study the photo again, I feel as naked as I felt that day the mutton before me took the photo. The man is long past looking human. He looks like the meat that hangs in the butchers, raw and dripping with clotted blood and on sale. My knuckles rip open and bleed again. I think about how Akihito won't be home tonight or any night in the future because of this man and this photo.

I roll the white tape through my fingers, ripping it off with my teeth, covering the wounds that refuse to heal as I continue to slice them open on this guy's teeth. I feel the saliva coat my fangs as the blood stirs some kind of raw primal emotion with in me.

I smoke a cigarette to add to the smell. The man twitches as he passes in and out of consciousness.

"It takes two people to have a discussion." I say. I ground the cigarette into the side of his neck. "This is not Akihito's work." I say to the hanging biohazard. Stoic as usual, the form answers with a snort. "You are a shit photographer…not like my Akihito."

My right-hand man Kirishima, who enjoys watching men piss themselves (and had excused himself about 10 times in the 5 days since The Photographer became our guest) touched me on the shoulder and spoke into my ear: "He's gone, Asami-sama. Stop chasing him."

His candor surprised me. (He was equally surprised when I fired him, but not surprised when I hired him back the next day).

It took me 5 days of discussion with the real photographer to unravel the lies. What are we up to…15 Days without Akihito? Do you know what being without sex does to a guy like me? Sure, I could bed someone else, but here's a little tidbit about me…

I really like make-up sex.

"I'm just a little red raincloud." I say in a slightly lyrical way. I don't sing, I just mumble faster. "hovering over…_mumble mumble._" I spin a wooden chair around quickly and sit, crossing my arms in a threatening manner. I flare my nostrils as his sweat and his stink invade my skin and clothes. I'd kill for a shower.

The man in the green camouflage jacket with all the pockets blinked a few times. "I'm real scared." He said dully.

I actually like the guy. He had a mouth on him that would look good sucking Suoh's cock. I called Suoh in with a little whistle and he ran in like the dog…er…horse he is.i

Doniki looked elated when Suoh (minus suit) came around the corner with a stiffy that would make Michelangelo's David jealous. He was smiling until Suoh peeled off his underwear. I swear I could hear a thud as the guy's jaw hit the floor as Suoh's tripod unraveled.

"It's a beautiful shade of pink." I comment. Suoh spits out a chuckle.

I thought about Akihito's cock while the guy pleasured (aka choked on) Suoh's _little man. _Akihito's cock is long, skinny, and cute. It fits well in my mouth and when he comes (usually without warning), he tastes amazing, no matter what he's eaten recently.

So that is how I cheated death, watching Suoh stuff his cock down the guy's throat until he turned blue and flailed around like a headless chicken. Our game ended quickly due to excess pain. His, not mine.

I suggested heroin and he agreed. Well…I thought I heard consent.

In his semi-coherent state, I managed to hear something I could actually comprehend…

"You aren't hard to figure out. They knew you would blow up and kill your lover."

"Who?"

"Everyone."

They forgave me. AtI was forgiven. Or at least, everyone agreed to forgive. On the other hand, open war was hell on the bottom dollar. This and a lot of money was enough for me to stay the hand of Death…but not enough to bring back Akihito.

I sensed I had gone too far.

I kept track of him using the techniques at my disposal. Mainly, I paid someone to do it. First, I had him tailed by a man known simply as _Tracker_….and _Tracker_ lost him on the first day (after Akihito spotted him an hour into his surveillance.) I also sensed I should quit hiring people based on their nicknames.

As usual, I left it to myself (AKA Kirishima) to sniff out the little Kitten hiding in the shadows.

Akihito now sells tickets at a transit station on Hokkaido Island, a quiet life gifted to him under a name no longer uttered he no longer answers to. The plan should have worked perfectly, except Akihito couldn't quite give up photography. That's how I found him, as the lucky beneficiary of a photography contest (rigged by yours truly).

He titled the photo: _Surrender_ and it showed a photo of a white flag bending in the wind calling attention to the sale. The sale was for Dunhill's: Two for one…Service with a smile.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Kirishima gestures to the little lighted box in the distance and I follow his finger pointing at the now black haired boy giving change to a disinterested man. He smiles politely at the man, but it's a hollow smile, I think.

He turns his back to stock the shelves as I'm approaching now. My shoes make a lot of noise on the asphalt and I want to take them off so I can stalk up to him and yell surprise and have him faint in my arms.

However, Akihito cocoons himself like the angel he is, behind safety glass, protected in a cage he gladly finds himself in every day. He doesn't look up when I approach but just asks a few polite questions and, with a voice that catches in my throat, I say. "A pack of Dunhill's." The two for one."

He still doesn't look up. He shrugs, big drops start falling onto the counter in front of him. He clutches his fists, rolling them underneath and I can see his knuckles quivering with effort.

"I thought you'd see my photo." He says to the dirty mop at his side. "Did I win the prize?"

He's thinner now and dressed in a light dress shirt and black pants. A ring on a silver chain around his neck dangles. It looks like a man's ring. I inhale and exhale. I hope it's just to keep the wolves from his door, but I don't really care.

"Dunhill's. The two for one." I say again and wait for him to move to get the pack hiding near the top, among the cigars and other foreign cigarettes.

I flip some yen under the silver slot. He takes the money and hands me the packs through the same slot. They have clear perfectly round drops on them that collect and run away from me as I gather the packs.

He inhales again, a clear drop hangs from his chin and he wipes it away and proceeds to balance himself with his fists on the counter.

He swallows, sniffing the snot back into his nose although he has tissues near his rolled up hands. I chuff loudly, hoping he remembers I'm still standing there. I'm hoping to see that smile. However forced, I want to see him smile at me.

"The service with a smile?" I ask and I can see him shake his head, the teardrops fling to the right and left, landing on a pile of papers.

He raises his head. He smiles again; his tears fill and overflow with the change in position. With the smile, his tears look like tears of joy.

"You still belong to me," I begin. The hollow smile fades, replaced with an empty frown. "And I was wrong not to listen."

The full moon comes out of shadow finally, and his tears shine for a moment until the clouds steal the moonlight.

"I…" He starts but sniffs instead and shrugs. His tears start looking brown now, mixed with sweat. His eyes look fearless but his words shake with emotion, "We…" He begins and shrugs.

Shrugging is my cue to say something but instead I clutch the packs so hard I ruin the cigarettes. "Another pack, please." I say. I don't want to hear how he feels, because if he does I would have to listen. I don't want to hear anything but his moans in my ears. "These are ruined."

I shove more money, too much money for what I've asked for. It's enough for him to run away from me forever if he just breaks out of his cage. My back ripples with tension as I feel the bartender across the street watching us. His black form makes a silhouette against the orange lighting coming from the bar's dim lamps. I wonder what he's thinking.

I swallow.

"We are out of stock." He pushes the money back. I see about ten boxes of Dunhill's. I try not to smirk. "But if you'd like something sweet to suck on, we have Pocky on sale."

He's blushing with his declaration. I hate the little box he's in, the little cage that separates us. He's staring at a picture of a blond man running on the beach towards the invisible horizon.

The caption reads..._Blue Moon Hotel. Pensacola, Florida._

My smirk gets wider. "Take that off." I say, pointing to the ring around his neck. The grease under his nails appears iridescent and shimmers along with the bling around his neck. I am jealous of a ring.

He does so without asking any questions and my smirk broadens.

He tosses it into the trash before opening the door with a loud thud. An old man perched on a concrete pillar jumps at the noise and re-crosses his feet. He eyes me with disdain as Akihito sprints towards me.

Before I say anything, he's melting into my suit, into my arms that circle around him. A bus honks in annoyance or exuberance, but I close my eyes and kiss him, my tongue wrapping around his, ignoring the form staring at us from across the street.

I can feel his eyes glowing and then he moans into my mouth and my legs turn to water.

I see the blue moon behind my lids, a once in a lifetime chance to see something that most people think of as a myth. I'm getting my second chance.

"I'm sorry." I say slowly as we reluctantly pull away. He nods and smiles with brilliantly smoldering eyes.

The old man nods and says with a toothless grin: "You should have brought flowers, but that would do for me."

"Does it do it for you?" I ask gently.

"It's a start."

Kirishima takes his place in the cage and I nod to him as he makes change for an old woman carrying an empty faded blue baby's blanket. She looks tired.

I scoop the skinny boy into my arms. He nuzzles into my chest. He smells like a heavily wooded forest that permeates your nostrils and you still smell long after you leave.

He nods for some reason and says, "Is this the end of the abyss?"

I shake my head. "Not yet."

I usher (toss) him in the limo, noting how the leather gently remembers how to cradle his ass. He's watching me fixedly; his lips start to swell as he worries his lip with perfectly straight teeth.

He tenses a moment as I cradle his cheek as gently as I can.

_I can be gentle when I want to be._

"Kirishima…will he be okay?" He says suddenly, remembering his job, as if he could work with the hard-on rising in his pants. I slide over and slam the door with super-human speed. Suoh floors it out of the parking lot with a short screech of tires.

"Too late now." He mutters, with one eye on my crotch. "He can do my job just as well."

"Blue moon." I say. "Got any plans?"

"Yeah." He replies and he smashes his lips into mine. Our teeth clack together and he's tearing at my clothes and fisting my cock with a saliva slick hand. I close my eyes.

"It's not the end." I'm panting as he sucks me and I swallow hard as he fondles my balls with his long tongue. He's writhing, his cock swelling as he seeks my heat. The friction between us steams up the windows.

"Yeah."

It smells like sex in the limo. I inhale loudly, realizing I can't last much longer. "I have to take you."

He turns over and spreads his ass cheeks, balancing his body with his head on the window. I pull him against me. He starts begging for me and it turns me on so much that I keep missing his asshole and fall into him as Suoh drives like an old man through empty rural streets, hitting every bump and stopping with a jolt at every stop sign. I swear he's listening to Perry Como in the front just to irritate me. Having my cock squished hurts like…well, having your cock squished.

"Go to the fucking love hotel!" I yell into the front seat He replies with a jolt of the brakes and a loud groan. He steps out and with a calm and curt bow, he says, "Sir, I'm in the middle of nowhere. There is no love hotel." With overgrown bangs shading his normally alert eyes he finishes with, "Please continue and I will take a walk."

He could sit outside the car and listen to every moan. I don't care.

Akihito proceeds to stare at me for a minute until the overhead lamp dims, dropping us into the moon's shadow. My tongue starts bathing his body in my spit.

"Mmmmmnh.." He mumbles. He lowers himself on my cock, his thighs twitching with effort. His head rolls back as I cradle him in my arms and slowly, his hips rock as he fully seats himself. His eyes open as we join and quickly close as he buries his head into my shoulder.

I hold him tightly. I can feel the moon's light glide across my skin.

I thrust up as he squeals with a noise that sounds inhumane. My mouth tears at his throat and with my tongue I heal the mark. It quickly fades.

He moans his pleasure. "Ryuuichi." He mouths.

My cock aches, both of our muscles quivering as I ram into him, both of us not caring how long we last or how sore his ass will feel tomorrow.

The moonlight fades again but my eyes adjust quickly. He groans as I manipulate him, pulling apart his legs to the point of painfulness. I brush a callused finger across his slit and listen to him groan. He curls against me.

"Already?" I challenge. He tightens his ass in response. "Going to come if you do that." I mutter in a commanding tone.

He does it again. I push him over and thrust against him as he claws at the paneling. I'm not sure if he's attempting to escape me or trying to operate the window, but his ass clenches dangerously around me as he finds the cushion, gripping it with tensed fingers. He pushes against me, violently crying with pleasure as I stroke his cock. It remembers me, thrusting up as my fist curls around him, taking control, as Akihito has none.

He mumbles my name again as I push against him. I'm deep into him, his body remembering how to please me. His fingers seek my thighs and he strokes them softly before returning to clutch the leather seat.

"Ryuuichi."

I shudder as I release with a low growl. My fingers clench around his shoulders. I control him, holding him against me as I shoot my cursed seed into him. His cries increase in pitch and volume as he cums with a hoarse shout.

My cock inside him twitches and falls out as he collapses into his own spend. He inhales and holds it. I wonder if he's as reluctant to speak as I am.

"Mmm…." He groans with satisfaction and my smirk broadens. He's seeking a cuddle in my arms, so I circle around him as he breathes into my jacket.

"You need a bath." I say.

He's reaching up to nip at my chin with tiny perfect teeth. "Yeah." He sounds so sleepy. "No one seems to care what I smell like." He mumbles.

He pulls up his black pants and buttons them. He pauses a moment, studying his hands, before his eyes fill with tears and spill over. "So." He sniffs. "See you the next time?"

"Once in a blue moon." I reply coollysay.

"The abyss is not so bad…once you get used to it. You know?"

"Yeah, it's all right." I reply stiffly. His eyes look guarded.

With a flip of his legs, he's off to stand guard at the ticket booth. His limbs seem to melt into the road and his form wavers as the last of the moon's rays devour the blackness. The bartender across the street turns off his neon light that reads '_Be r.' _

And I am locked in the cage I created once again.

XXXX

i _A little tidbit about Suoh: The man has the cock of a horse and I've compared him to my racing stud. I'm not kidding. One time, while I was interrogating…er…talking to a stoolie…er…colleague, he suddenly whipped it out and twirled it in the guy's guy fainted. And when he came to, he sang like a canary._


End file.
